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KANE AND ABELbyJEFFREY ARCHERCORONET BOOKSHodder and Stoughton

To Michael and JaneCopyright (g~ 1979 by Jeffrey ArcherFirst published in Great Britain 1979 by Hodder and Stoughton LimitedCoronet edition, September 1980The characters and sltuations In this book are entirely Imaginary andbear no relation to any real person or actual happeningThis book Is sold subject to the condition that It shall not, by way oftrade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated

without the publisher's prior consent in any form of blndlng or coverother than that In which this Is published and without a similarcondition Including this condition being Imposed on the subsequentpurchaser.

Printed in CanadaISBN 0 340 25733 4 Also by the same author, and available in Coronet Books:Not A Penny More, Not A Penny Less Shall We Tell The President? AcknowledgmentsThe author would like to thank the two men who made thisbook possible. They both wish to remain anonymous, onebecause he is working on his own autobiography and theother because he is still a public figure in the United States. Book One

April 18th, 19o6 Slonim, PolandShe only stopped screaming when she died. It was then that he started toscream.The young boy who was hunting rabbits in the forest was not sure whether ithad been the woman's last cry or the child's first that alerted him. Heturned suddenly, sensing the possible danger, his eyes searching for ananimal that was so obviously in pain. He had never known any animal toscream in quite that way before. He edged towards the noise cautiously; thescream had now turned to a whine but it still did not sound like any animalhe knew. He hoped it would be small enough to kill; at least that wouldmake a change from rabbit for dinner.The young boy moved stealthily towards the river, where the strange noisecame from, running from tree to tree, feeling the protection of the barkagainst his shoulder blades, something to touch. Never stay in the open,his father had taught him. When he reached the edge of the forest, he hada clear line of vision all the way down the valley to the river, and eventhen it took him some time to realise that the strange cry ernanated fromno ordinary animal. He continued to creel) towards the whining, but he wasout in the open on his own now. Then suddenly he saw the woman, with herdress above her waist, her bare legs splayed wide apart. He had never seena woman like that before. He ran quickly to her side and stared down at herbelly, quite frightened to touch. There, lying between the woman's legs,

was the body of a small, damp, pink animal, attached byI'l something that looked like rope. The young hunter dropped his freshlyskinned rabbits and collapsed on his knees beside the little creature.He gazed for a long, stunned moment and then turned his eyes towards thewoman, immediately regretting the decision. She was already blue withcold; her tired twentythree-year-old face looked middle-aged to the boy;he did not need to be told that she was dead. He picked up the slip~erylittle body - had you asked him why, and no one ever did, he would havetold you that the tiny fingernails clawing the crumpled face had worriedhim - and then he became aware that mother and child were inseparablebecause of the slimy rope.He had watched the birth of a lamb a few days earlier and he tried toremember. Yes, that's what the shepherd had done, but dare he, with achild? The whining had stopped and he sensed that a decision was nowurgent. He unsheathed his knife, the one he had skinned the rabbits with,wiped it on his sleeve and hesitating only for a moment, cut the ropeclose to the child's body. Blood flowed freely from the severed ends.Then what had the shepherd done when the lamb was born? He had tied aknot to stop the blood. Of course, of course; he pulled some grass outof the earth beside him and hastily tied a crude knot in the cord. Thenhe took the child in his arms. He rose slowly from his knees, leaving

behind him three dead rabbits and a dead woman who had given birth tothis child. Before finally tun-iing his back on the mother, he put herlegs together, and pulled her dress down over her knees. It seemed to bethe right thing to do.'Holy God,' he said aloud, the first thing he always said when he haddone something very good or very bad. He wasn't yet sure which this was.The young hunter then ran towards the cottage where he knew his motherwould be cooking supper, waiting only for his rabbits; all else would beprepared. She would be wondering how many he might have caught today;with a family of eight to feed, she needed at least three. Sometimes heman-

aged a duck, a goose or even a pheasant that had strayed from the Baron'sestate, on which his father worked. Tonight he had caught a differentanimal, and when he reached the cottage the young hunter dared not let go ofhis prize even with one hand, so he kicked at the door with his bare footuntil his mother opened it. Silently, he held out his offering to her. Shemade no immediate move to take the creature from him but stood, one hand onher breast, gazing at the wretched sight.'Holy God,' she said and crossed herself. The boy stared up at his mother'sface for some sign of pleasure or anger. Her eyes were now showing atenderness that the boy had never seen in them before. He knew then that

the thing which he had done must be good.'Is it a baby, Matka?''Ies a little boy,' said his mother, nodding her head sorrowfully, 'Wheredid you find him?''Down by the river, Matka.' he said.'And, the mother?''Dead.'

She crossed herself again.'Quickly, run and tell your father what has happened. He will find UrszulaWojnak on the estate and you must take them both to the mother, and then besure they come back here.'The young hunter handed over the little boy to his mother, happy enough notto have dropped the slippery creature. Now, free of his quarry, he rubbedhis hands on his trousers and mn off to look for his father.The mother closed the door with her shoulder and called out for her eldestchild, a girl, to put the pot on the stave. She sat down on a wooden stool,unbuttoned her bodice and pushed a tired nipple towards the little puckeredmouth. Sophia, her youngest daughter, only six months old, would have to gowithout her supper tonight; come to think of it, so would the whole family.'And to what purpose?' the woman said out loud, tucking a shawl around herarm and the child together. 'Poor little mite, yotill be dead by mon-iing.'13

But she did not repeat those feelings to old Urszula Wojnak when themidwife washed the little body and tended to the twisted umbilical stumplate that night. Her husband stood silently by observing the scene.'When a guest comes into the house, God comes into the house,' declaredthe woman, quoting the old Polish proverb.Her husband spat. 'To the cholera with him. We have enough children ofour ovvn~

T11e woman pretended not to hear him as she stroked the dark, thin hairson the baby's head.'What shall we call hixnT the woman asked, looking up at her husbancLHe shmgge-d. "Who cares? Let him go to his grave nameless,"April x8tli, 19o6 Boston, MassachusettsThe doctor picked up the newborn child by the ankles and slapped itsbottom The infant started to cry.In Boston, Massachusetts, there is a hospital that caters mainly forthose who suffer from the diseases of the rich, and on selected occasionsallom itself to deliver the new rich. At the Massachusetts GeneralHospital the mothers don,t scream, and certainly they don!t give birthfully dressed. it is not the done thing.A young man was pacing up and down outside the deEvery room; insides twoobstetricians and the family doctor were on duty. This father did notbelieve in taking risks with his first born. The two obstetricians would

be paid a large fee merely to stand by and witness events. One of themswho wore evening clothes under his long white coat, had a dinner partyto attend later, but he could not afford to absent himself from thisparticular birth. ne three had16

earlier drawn straws to decide who should deliver the child, and DoctorMacKenzie,, the family G.P., had won. A sound, secure name, the fatherconsidered, as he paced up and down the corridor. Not that he had anyreason to be anxious. Roberts had driven his wife, Anne, to the hospitalin the hansom carriage that morning, which she had calculated was thetwenty-eighth day of her ninth month. She had started labour soon afterbreakfast, and he had been assured that delivery would not take: placeuntil his bank had closed for the day. The father was a disciplined manand saw no reason why a birth should interrupt his well-ordered life.Nevertheless, he continued to pace. Nurses and young doctors hurried pasthim, aware of his presence, their voices lowered when they were near him,and raised again only when they were out of his earshot. He didn't noticebecause everybody had always treated him that way. Most of them had neverseen him in person; all of them knew who he was.If it was a boy, a son, he would probably build the new children's wingthat the hospital so badly needed. He had already built a library and aschool. The expectant father tried to read the evening paper, looking

over the words but not taking in their meaning. He was nervous, evenworried. It would never do for them (he looked upon almost everyone as'them') to realise that it had to be a boy, a boy who would one day takehis place as president of the bank. He turned the pages of the EveningTranscript. The Boston Red Sox had beaten the New York Highlanders -others would be celebrating. Then he recalled the headline on the frontpage and returned to it. The worst-ever earthquake in the history ofAmerica. Devastation in San Francisco, at least four hundred people dead- others would be mourning. He hated that. That would take away from thebirth of his son. People would remember something else had happened onthat day. It never occurred to him, not even for a moment, that it mightbe a girl. He turned to the financial pages and checked the stock market,down sharply; that damned earthquake had taken one hundred thousanddollars off the value of Es own holdings in the bank, but as his personal17

fortune remained comfortably over sixteen million dollars, it was goingto take more than a Californian earthquake to move him. He could now liveoff the interest from his interest, so the sixteen million capital wouldalways remain intact, ready for his son, still unborn. He continued topace and pretend to read the Transcript,The obstetrician in evening dress pushed through the swing doors of thedelivery room to report the news. He felt he must do something for his

large unearned fee and he was the most suitably dressed for theannouncemenL The two men stared at each other for a moment. The doctoralso felt a little nervous, but he wasn't going to show it in front ofthe father.'Congratulations, sir, you have a son, a fine-looking little boy. 0What silly remarks people make when a child is born ' the father thought;how could he be anything but little? The news hadn't yet dawned on him- a son. He almost thanked God. The obstetrician ventured a question tobreak the silence.'Have you decided what you will call him?'The father answered without hesitation. 'William Lowell Kane.'3

Long after the excitement of the baby's arrival had passed and the restof the farnily had gone to bed, the mother remained awake with the littlechild in her arms. Helena Koskiewicz believed in life, and she had bornenine children to prove it. Although she had lost three in infancy, she hadnot let any of them go easily.Now at thirty-five she knew that her once lusty jasio would give her nomore sons or daughters. God had given her this one; surely he wasdestined to live. Helena's was a18

simple faith, which was good, for her destiny was never to afford her morethan a simple life. She was grey and thin, not through choice but throughlittle food, hard work, and no spare money. It never occurred to her tocomplain but the lines on her face would have been more in keeping witha grandmother than a mother in today's world. She had never worn newclothes evep once in her life.Helena squeezed her tired breasts so hard that dull red marks appearedaround the nipples. Little drops of milk squirted out. At thirty-five,halfway through life's contract, we all have sorne useful piece ofexpertise to pass on and Helena Koskiewicz's was now at a premium.'Matka's littlest one,' she whispered tenderly to the child, and drew themilky teat across its pursed mouth. The blue eyes opened and tiny dropsof sweat broke out on the baby's nose as he tried to suck. Finally themother slumped unwillingly into a deep sleep.Jasio Ko-kiewicz, a heavy, dull man with a full moustache, his onlygesture of self-assertion in an otherwise servile existence, discoveredhis wife and the baby asleep in the rocking chair when he rose at five.He hadn't noticed her absence from their bed that night. He stared downat the bastard who had, thank God, at least stopped wailing. Was it dead?Jasio considered the easiest way out of the dilemma was to get himselfto work and not interfere with the intruder; let the woman worry aboutlife and death: his preoccupation was to be on the Baron's estate byfirst light. He took a few long swallows of goat's milk and wiped his

luxuriant moustache on his sleeve. Then he grabbed a hunk of bread withone hand and his traps with the other, slipping noiselessly out of thecottage for fear of waking the woman and getting himself involved. Hestrode away towards the forest, giving no more thought to the littleintruder other than to assume that he had seen him for the last time.Florentyna, the elder daughter, was next to enter the kitchen, justbefore the old clock, which for many years had kept its own time, claimedthat six a.m. had arrived. It was19

of no more than ancillary assistance to those who wished to know if it wasEhe hour to get up or go to bed. Among Florentyna's daily duties was thepreparatioA of the breakfast, in itself a minor task involving the simpledivision of a skin of goat's milk and a lump of rye bread among a familyof eight. Nevertheless, it required the wisdom of Solomon to carry out thetask in such a way that no one complained about another's portion.Florentyna struck those who saw her for the first time as a pretty,frail, shabby little thing. It was unfair that for the last three yearsshe had had only one dress to wear, but those who could separate theiropinion of the child from that of her surroundings understood why Jasiohad fallen in love with her mother. Florrentyna's long fair hair shonewhile her hazel eyes sparkled in defiance against the influence of herbirth and diet.

She tiptoed up to the rocking chair and stared down at her mother and thelittle boy whom she had adored at first sight. She had never in her eightyears owned a doll. Actually she had only seen one once, when the familyhad been invited to a celebration of the feast of St. Nicholas at theBaron's castle. Even then she had not actually touched the beautifulobject, but now she felt an inexplicable urge to hold this baby in herarms. She bent down and eased the child away from her mother and, staringdown into the little blue eM - such blue eyes - she began to hum. Thechange of temperature from the warmth of the mother's breast to the coldof the little girl's hands made the baby indignant. He immediat(-Iystarted crying which woke the mother, whose only reaction was of guiltfor ever having fallen asleep.'Holy God, hes still alive,' she said to Florentyna. Tou preparebreakfast for the boys while I try to feed him again!Florentyna reluctantly handed the infant back and watched her mother onceagain pump her aching breasts. The little girl was mesmerised.'Hurry up, Florcia,' chided her mother, 'the rest of the family must catas well.'

Florentyria obeyed, and as her brothers arrived from the loft where theyall slept, they kissed their mother's hands in greeting and stared at thenewcomer in awe. All they knew was that this one had not come from

Mother's stomach. Florentyna was too excited to cat her breakfast thatmorning, so the boys divided her portion among them without a secondthought and left their mother's share on the table. No one noticed, asthey went about their daily tasks, that their mother hadn't eatenanything since the baby's arrival.Helena Koskiewicz was pleased that her children had learned so early inlife to fend for themselves. They could feed the animals, milk the goatsand cows, tend the vegetable garden, and go about their daily taskswithout her help or prodding. When jasio returned home in the evening shesuddenly reabsed that she had not prepared supper for him, but thatFlorentyna had taken the rabbits from Franck, her brother the hunter, andhad already started to cook them. Florentyna was proud to be in chargeof the evening meal, a responsibility she was entrusted with only whenher mother was unwell, and Helena Koskitwicz rarely allowed herself thatluxury. The young hunter had brought home four rabbits and the father sixmushrooms and three potatoes: tonight would be a veritable feast.After dinner, jasio Koskiewicz sat in his chair by the fire and studiedthe child properly for the first time. Holding the little baby under theArmpits, with his two thumbs supporting the helpless neck, he cast atrapper's eye over the infant. Wrinkled and toothless, the face wasredeemed only by the fine, blue, unfocusing eym Directing his gazetowards the thin body, something immediately attracted his attention. Hescowled and rubbed the delicate chest with his thumbs.'Have you noticed this, Helena?' said the trapper prodding the baby's

ribs. 'The ugly little bastard has only one nipple.'His wife frowned as she in turn rubbed the skin with her thumb, as thoughthe action would supply the missing21

organ. Her husband was right: the minute and colourless left nipple wasthere, but where its mirror image should have appeared on the right-handside the shallow breast was completely smooth and uniformly pink.The woman's superstitious tendencies were immediately aroused. 'He hasbeen given to me by God,' she exclaimed. 'See His mark upon him.'The man thrust the child angrily at her. 'You're a fool, Helena. Thechild was given to its mother by a man with bad blood.' He spat into thefire, the more precisely to express his opinion of the child's parentage.'Anyway, I wouldn't bet a potato on the little bastard's survival.'jasio Koskiewicz cared even less than a potato that the child shouldsurvive. He was not by nature a callous man but the boy wa ' s not his,and one more mouth to feed could only compound his problems. But if itwas so to be, it was not for him to question the -Almighty, and with nomore thought of the boy, he fell into a deep sleep by the fire.As the days passed by, even jasio Koskiewicz began to believe the childmight survive and, had he been a betting man, he would have lost a potato.The eldest son, the hunter, with the help of his younger brothers~ made

the child a cot out of wood which they had collected from the Baron'sforest. Florentyna made his clothes by cutting little pieces off her owndresses and then sewing them together. They would have called himHarlequin if they had known what it meant. In truth, naming him causedmore disagreement in the household than any other single problem had donefor months; only the father had no opinion to offer. Finally, they agreedon Wladek; the following Sunday, in the chapel on the Baron's greatestate, the child was christened Wladek Koskiewicz, the mother thankingGod for sparing his life, the father resigning himself to whatever mustbe.

That evening there was a small feast to celebrate the christening,augmented by the gift of a goose from the Baron's estate. They all ateheartily.From that day on, Florentyna learned to divide by nine,22

Anne Kane had slept peacefully through the night. When her son Williamreturned after breakfast in the arms of one of the hospital's nurses, shecould not wait to hold him again.'Now then, Mrs. Kane,' said the white-uniformed nurse briskly, 'shall wegive baby his breakfast too?'

She sat Anne, who was abruptly aware of her swollen breasts, up in bedand guided the two novices through the procedure. Anne, conscious thatto appear embarrassed would be considered unmaternal, gazed fixedly intoWilliarres blue eyes, more blue even than his father's, and assimilatedher new position, with which it would have been illogical to be otherthan pleased. At twenty-one, she was not conscious that she lackedanything. Born a Cabot, married into a branch of the Lowell family, andnow a first born son to carry on the tradition summarised so succinctlyin the card sent to her by an old school friend:Here's to the city of Boston, Land of the bean and the cod, WhereCabots, talk only to Lowells, And Lowells talk only to God.Anne spent half an hour talking to William but obtamed little response.He was then retired for a sleep in the same manner by which he hadarrived. Anne nobly resisted the fruit and candy piled by her bedside. Shewas deten-nined to get back into all -her dresses by the summer season andreassume her rightful place in all the fashionable magazines. Had not thePrince de Garonne said that she was the only beautiful object in Boston?Her long golden hair, fine delicate features, and slim figure hadattracted excited2,3

admiration in cities she had never even visited. She checked in the mirror:no telltale lines on her face; people would hardly believe that she was themother of a bouncing boy. Thank God it had been a bouncing boy, thoughtAnne.

She enjoyed a light lunch and prepared herself for the visitors who wouldappear during the afternoon, already screened by her private secretary.Those allowed to see her on the first days had to be family or from thevery best families; others would be told she was not yet ready to receivethem. But as Boston was the last city rr-maining in America where each knewtheir place to the finest degree of social prominence, there was unlikelyto be any unexpected intrudex.The room which she alone occupied could have easily taken another five bedshad it not already been smothered in flowers. A casual passer-by could havebeen forgiven for mistaking it for a minor horticultural show, if it hadnot been for the presence of the young mother sitting upright in bed. Anneswitched on the electric light, still a novelty for her; Richard and shehad waited for the Cabots to have them fitted, which all of Boston hadinterpreted as an oracular sign that electromagnetic induction was as ofthat moment socially acceptable.The first visitor was Anne's mother-in-law, Mrs. Thomas Lowell Kane, thehead of the family since her husband had died the previous year. In elegantlate middle-age, she had perfected the technique of sweeping into a room toher own total satisfaction and to its occupants' undoubted discomfiture.She wore a long chemise dress, which made it impossible to view her ankles;

the only man who had ever seen her ankles was now dead. She had always beenlean. In her opinion, fat women meant bad food and even worse breeding. Shewas now the oldest Lowell alive; the oldest Kane, come to that. Shetherefore expected and was expected to be the first to arrive to view hernew gr-andson. After all, had it not been she who had arranged the meetingbetween Anne and Richard? Love had seemed of little consequence24

to Mrs. Kane- Wealth, position and prestige she could always come to termswith, Love was all very well, but it rarely proved to be a lastingcommodity; the other three were. She kissed her daughter-in-lawapprovingly on the forehead. Anne touched a button on the wall, and aquiet buzz could be heard. The noise took Mrs. Kane by surprise; she couldnot believe electricity would ever catch on. The nurse reappeared with theheir. Mrs. Kane inspected him, sniffed her satisfaction and waved himaway.'Well done, Anne,' the old lady said, as if her daughterin-law had wona minor gyrnkhana prize. 'All of us are very proud of you.'Anne's own mother, Mrs. Edward Cabot, arrived a few minutes later. She,like Mrs. Kane, had been widowed within recent years and differed solittle from her in appearance that those who observed them only from afartended to get them muddled up. But to do her justice, she took consider-ably more interest in her new grandson and in her daughter. The

inspection moved to the flowers.'How kind of the Jacksons to remember,' murmured Mrs. Cabot.Mrs. Kane adopted a more cursory procedure. Her eyes skimmed over thedelicate blooms then settled on the donors' cards. She whispered thesoothing names to herself -Adamses, Lawrences, Lodges, Higginsons.Neither grandmother commented on the names they didn't know; they wereboth past the age of wanting to learn of anything or anyone new. Theyleft together, well pleased: an heir had been born and appeared, on firstsight, to be adequate. They both considered that their final familyobligation had been successfully, albeit vicariously, performed and thatthey themselves might now progress to the role of chorus.They were both wrong.Anne and Richard's close friends poured in during the afternoon with giftsand good wishes, the former of gold or silver, the latter in high-pitchedBrahmin accents.25

When her husband arrived after the close of business, Anne was somewhatovertired. Richard had drunk champagne at lunch for the first time in hislife - old Amos Kerbes had insisted and, with the whole Somerset Clublooking on, Richard could hardly have refused. He seemed to his wife tobe a little less stiff than usual. Solid in his long black frock coat and

pinstripe trousers, he stood fully six feet one; his dark hair with itscentre parting gleamed in the light of the large electric bulb. Few wouldhave guessed his age correctly as only thirty-three : youth had neverbeen important to him; substance was the only thing that matteTed. Onceagain William Lowell Kane was called for and inspected, as if the fatherwere checking the balance at the end of the banking day. All seemed tobe in order. The boy had two legs, two arms, ten fingers, ten toes andRichard could see nothing that might later embarrass him, so William wassent away.'I wired the headmaster of St. Paul's List night. William has beenadmitted for September, 19182Anne said nothing. Richard had so obviously started planning William'scareer.

'Well, my dear, are you fully recovered today?' he went on to inquire,never'having spent a day in hospital during his thirty-thru- years.'Yes - no - I think so,' responded his wife timidly, suppressing a risingtearfulness that she knew would only displease her husband. The answerwas not of the sort that Richard could hope to understand. He kissed hiswife on the cheek and returned in the hansom carriage to the Red Houseon Louisburg Square, their family home. With staff, servants, the newbaby and his nurse, there would now be nine mouths to feed. Richard didnot give the problem a second thought.William Lowell Kane received the Church's blessing and the names hisfather had apportioned him before birth at the Protestant Episcopal

Church of St. Paul's, in the presence of everybody in Boston who matteredand a few who didn't. Ancient Bishop Lawrence officiated, J. P. Morgan.26

and Alan Lloyd, bankers of impeccable standing, along with Milly Preston,Anne's closest friend, were the chosen godparents. His Grace sprinkled theHoly Water on Wil~ liam's head; the boy didn't murmur. Ile was alreadylearning the Brahmin approach to life. Anne thanked God for the safe birthof her son and Richard thanked God, whom he regarded as an externalbookkeeper whose function was to record the deeds of the Kane family fromgeneration to generation, that he had a son to whom he could leave hisfortune. Still, he thought, perhaps he had better be certain and have asecond boy. From his kneeling position he glanced sideways at his wife,well pleased with her.27

Book Two

Wladek Koskiewicz grew slowly. It became apparent to his foster motherthat the boy's health would always be a problem. He caught all the

illnesses and diseases that growing children normally catch and many thatthey don't, and he passed them on indiscriminately to the rest of theKoskiewicz family. Helena treated him as any other of her brood and alwaysvigorously defended him when Jasio began tD blame the devil rather thanGod for Wladek's presence in their tiny cottage. Florentyna, on the otherhand, took care of Wladek as if he were her own child. She loved him fromthe first moment she had set eyes on him with an intensity that grew froma fear that no one would ever want to marry her, the penniless daughterof a trapper. She must, therefore, be childless. Wladek was her child.The eldest brother, the hunter, who had found Wladek, treated him likea plaything but was too afraid of his father to admit that he liked thefrail infant who was growing into a sturdy toddler. In any case, nextJanuary the hunter was to leave school and start work on the Baron'sestate, and children were a woman's problem, so his father had told him.The three youziger brothers, Stefan, Josef and Jan, showed littleinterest in Wladek and the remaining member of the family, Sophia, washappy enough just to cuddle him.What neither parent had been prepared for was a charac, ter and mind sodifferent from those of their own children, No one could dismiss thephysical or intellectual difference. The Koskiewiczes were all tall,large-boned with fair hair and grey eyes. Wladek was short and round,with dark hair and intensely blue eyes. The Koskiewiczes bad minimalI I

pretensions to scholarship and were removed from the village school assoon as age or discretion allowed. Wladek, on the other hand, though hewas late in walking, spoke at eighteen months. Read at three, but wasstill unable to dress himself. Wrote at five, but continued to wet hisbed. He became the despair of his father and the pride of his mother. Hisfirst foux years on this earth were memor-able only as a continualphysical attempt through illness to try to depart from it, and for thesustained efforts of Helena and Florentyna to insure that he did notsucceed. He ran around the little wooden cottage barefoot, dressed in hisharlequin outfit, a yard or so behind his mother. When Florentyna returnedfrom school, he would transfer his allegiance, never leaving her sideuntil she put him to bed. In her division of the food by nine, Florentynaoften sacrificed half of her own share to Wladek or, if he were ill, theentire portion. Wladek wore the clothes she made for him, sang the songsshe taught him and shared with her the few toys and presents she had beengiven.

Because Florr-ntyna was away at school most of the day, Wladek wantedfrom a young age to go with her. As soon as he was allowed to (holdingfirmly on to Florentyna's hand until they reached the village school),he walked the eighteen wiorsta, some nine miles, through the woods ofmoss-covered birches and cypresses and the orchards of Ifine and cherryto Slonim to begin his education.Wladek liked school from the first day; it was an escape from the tiny

cottage which had until then been his whole world. School also confrontedhim for the first time in life with the savage implications of theRussian occupation of eastern Poland. He learned that his native Polishwas to be "ken only in the privacy of the cottage and that while atschool, only Russian was to be used. He sensed in the other childrenaround him a fierce pride in the oppressed mother tongue and culture. He,too, felt that same pride. To his surprise, Wladek found that he was notbelittled by Mr. Kotowski, his schoolteacher, the way he was at home byhis father. Although still the youngest, as at home, it was not32

long before he rose above all his classmates in everything except height.His tiny stature misled them into continual underestimation of his realabilities: children always imagine biggest is best. By the age of five,Wladek was first in every subject taken by his class except ironwork.At night, back at the little wooden cottage~ while the other childrenwould tend the violets and poplars that bloomed so fragrantly in theirspring-time garden, pick berries, chop wood, catch rabbits or makedresses, Wladek read and read, until he was reading the unopened booksof his eldest brother and then those of his elder sister. It began todawn slowly on Helena Koskiewicz that she had taken on more than she hadbargained for when the young hunter had brought home the little animalin place of three rabbits; already Wladek was asking questions she could

not answer. She knew soon that she would-be quite unable to cope, and shewasn~t sure what to do about it. She had an unswerving belief in destinyand so was not surprised when the decision was taken out of her hands.One evening in the auturnn of 1911 came the first turning point inWladek's life. The family had all finished their plain supper of beetrootsoup and meatballs, Jasio Koskiewicz was seated snoring by the fire,Helena was sewing, and the other children were playing. Wladek wassitting at the feet of his mother, reading, when above the noise ofStefan and Josef squabbling over the possession of some newly paintedpine cones, they heard a loud knock on the door, They all were silent.A knock was always a surprise to the Kos'kiewicz family, for the littlecottage was eighteen wiorsta from Slonim and over six from the Baron'sestate. Visitors were almost unknown, and could be offered only a drinkof berry juice and the company of noisy children. The whole family lookedtowards the door apprehensively. As if it had not happened, they waitedfor the knock to come again. It did, if anything a little louder. Jasiorose sleepily from his chair, walked to the door and opened itcautiously. When they saw the man standing there, everyone bowed theirheads except Wladek, who stared up at the broad, handsome,33

aristocratic figure in the heavy bearskin coat, whose presence dominatedthe tiny room and brought fear into the father's eyes. A cordial smile

allayed that fear, and the trapper invited the Baron Rosnovski into hishome. Nobody spoke. The Baron had never visited them in the past and noone was sure what to say.Wladek put down his book, rose, and walked towards the str-anger,thrusting out his hand before his father could stop him.$Good evening, sir,' said Wladek.The Baron took his hand and they stared into each other's eyes. As theBaron released hirn, Wladek's eyes fell on a magnificent silver bandaround his wrist with an inscription on it that he could not quite makeout.

'You must be Wladek.''Yes, sir,' said the boy, neither sounding nor showing surprise that theBaron knew his name.

'It is about you that I have come to see your father,' said the Baron.. Wladek remained before the Bar-on, staring up at hiuL The trappersignified to his children by a wave of the arm that they should leave himalone with his master, so two of them curtsied, four bowed and all sixretreated silently into the loft. Wladek remained, and no one suggestedhe should do otherwise.'Koskiewicz,' began the Baron, still standing, as no one had invited himto sit. The trapper had not offered him a chair for two reasons: first,because he was too shy and second, because he assumed the Baron was thereto issue a reprimand. 'I have come to ask a favour.''Anything, sir, anything,' said the father, wondering wbat he could give

the Baron that he did not already have a hundred-fold.The Baron continued. 'My son, Leon, is now six and is being taughtprivately at the castle by two tutors, one from our native Poland and theother frorn Germany. They tell me he is a clever boy, but that he lackscompetition as he has only himself to beat. Mr. Kotowski, the teacher ofthe

village school at Slonim, tells me that Wladek is the only boy capable ofproviding the competition that Leon so badly needs. I wonder therefore ifyou would allow your son to leave the village school and to join Leon andhis tutors at the castle.Wladek continued to stand before the Baron, gazing, while before himthere opened a wondrous vision of food and drink, books and teacherswiser by far than Mr. Kotowski. He glanced towards his mother. She, too,was gazing at the Baron, her face filled with wonder and sorrow. Hisfather turned to his mother, and the instant of silent communicationbetween them seemed an eternity to the child.The trapper gruffly addressed the Baron's feet. 'We would be honoured,sir.'The Baron looked interrogatively at Helena Koskiewicz.'The Blessed Virgin forbid that I should ever stand in my child's way,'she said softly, 'though She alone knows how much it will cost me!

'But, Madam Koskiewicz, your son can return home regularly to see you.''Yes, sir. I expect he will do so, at first.' She was about to add someplea but decided against itThe Baron smiled. 'Good. ies settled then. Please bring the boy to thecastle tomorrow morning by seven o'clock. During the school term Wladekwill live with us, and when Christmas comes, he can return to you:Wladek burst into tears.'Quiet, boy,' said the trapper.'I will not go,' said Wladek firmly, wanting to go.'Quiet, boy,' said the trapper, this time a little louder.'Why not?' asked the Baron, with compassion in his voice.'I will never leave Florcia - never.''Florcia?' queried the Baron.'My eldest daughter, sir,' interjected the trapper. ~Don't concernyourself with her, sir. The boy will do as he is told.'No one spoke. The Baron considered for a moment. Wladek continued to crycontrolled tears.'How old is the girl?' asked the Baron.35

Tourteen,' replied the trapper.'Could she work in the kitchens?' asked the Baron, relieved to observe thatHelena Koskiewicz was not going to burst into tears, as well.

'Oh yes, Baron,' she replied, Tlorcia can cook and-she can sew and she can. . .''Good, good, then she can come as well. I shall expect to see them bothtomorrow morning at seven.'The Baron walked to the door and looked back and smiled at Wladek, whoreturned the smile. Wladek had won his first bargain, and accepted hismother's tight embrace while he stared at the closed door and heard herwhisper, 'Ah, Matka's littlest one, what will become of you now?'Wladek couldn't wait to find out.Helena Koskiewicz packed for Wladek and Florentyna during the night, notthat it would have taken long to pack the entire family's possessions. Inthe morning, the rvxnainder of the family stood in front of the door towatch them both depart for the castle each holding a: paper parcel underone arm. Florentyna tall and graceful, kept looking back, crying andwaving; but Wladek, short and ungainly, never once looked back. Florentynaheld firmly to Wladek's hand for the entire journey to the Baron's castle.Their roles were now reversed; from that day on she was to depend on him.They were clearly expected by the magnificent man in the embroidered suitof green livery who was summoned by their timid knock on the great oakdoor. Both children had gazed in admiration at the grey uniforms of thesoldiers in the town who guarded the nearby Russian-Polish border, but theyhad never seen anything so resplendent as this liveried servant, toweringabove them and evidently of overwhelming importance, There was a thickcarpet in the hall and Wladek stared at the green and red patterning,

amazed by its beauty, wondering if he should take his shoes off andsurprised when he walked across it, his footsteps made no sound. Thedazzling being conducted them to their bedrooms in the west wing. Separatebedrooms - would they ever get to sleep? At least there was a connectingdoor, so

they needed never to be too far apart, and in fact for many nights theyslept together in one bed.When they had both unpacked, Florentyna was taken to the kitchen, andWladek to a playroom in the south wing of the castle to meet the Baron'sson, Leon. He was a tall, good-looking boy who was so immediatelycharming and welcoming to Wladek that he abandoned his prepared pug-nacious posture with surprise and relief. Leon had been a lonely child,with no one to play with except his niania, the devoted Lithuanian womanwho had breast-fed him and attended to his every need since the prematuredeath of his mother. The stocky boy who had come out of the forestpromised companionship. At least in one matter they both knew they hadbeen deemed equals.Leon immediately offeried to show Wladek around the castle, and the tourtook the rest of the morning. Wladek remained astounded by its size, therichness of the furniture and fabric, and those car-pets in every room.To Leon he admitted only to being agreeably impressed: after all, he had

won his place in the castle on merit. The main part of the building isearly Gothic, explained the Baron's son, as if Wladek were sure to knowwhat Gothic meant. Wladek nodded. Next Leon took his new friend down intothe immense cellars, with line upon line of wine bottles covered in dustand cobwebs. Wladek's favourite room was the vast dining hall, with itsmassive pillared vaulting and stoneflagged floor. There were animals'heads all around the walls. Leon told him they were bison, bear, elk,boar and wolverine. At the end of the room, resplendent, was the Baron'scoat of arms below stag's antlers. The Rosnovski family motto read'Fortune favours the brave'. After a lunch, which Wladek ate so littleof because he couldn't master a knife and fork, he met his two tutors whodid not give him the same warm welcome, and in the evening he climbed upon to the longest bed he had ever seen and told Florentyna about hisadventures. Her excited eyes never once left his face, nor did she evenclose her mouth, agape with wonder, especially when she heard about theknife and37

fork, which Wladek described with the fingers of his right hand held outtight together, those of his left splayed wide apart.The tutoring started at seven sharp, before breakfast, and continuedthroughout the day with only short breaks for meals. Initially, Leon wasclearly ahead of Wladek, but Wladek wrestled determinedly with his books

so that as the weeks passed the gap began to narrow, while friendship andrivalry between the two boys developed simultaneously. The German andPolish tutors found it hard to treat their two pupils, the son of abaron, and the son of a trapper, as equals, although they reluctantlyconceded to the Baron when he enquired that Mr. Kotowski had made theright academic choice. The tutors'attitude towards Wladek never worriedhim because by Leon he was always treated as an equal.The Baron let it be known that he was pleased with the progress the twoboys were making and from time to time he would reward Wladek withclothes and toys. Wladek's initial distant and detached admiration forthe Baron developed into respect and, when the time came for the boy toreturn to the little cottage in the forest to rejoin his father andmother for Christmas, he became distressed at the thought of leavingLeon.

His distress was well-founded. Despite the initial happiness he felt atseeing his mother, the short space of three months that he had spent inthe Baron's castle had revealed to him deficiencies in his own home ofwhich he had previously been quite unaware. The holiday dragged on. Wla-dek felt himself stifled by the little cottage with its one room andloft~ and dissatisfied by the food dished out in such meagre amounts andthen eaten by hand: no one had divided by nine at the castle. After twoweeks Wladek longed to return to Leon and the Baron. Every afternoon hewould walk the six wior-sta to the castle and sit and stare at the greatwalls that surrounded the estate. Florentyna, who had lived only among

the kitchen servants, took to returning more easily and could notunderstand that the cottage would38

never be home again for Wladek. The trapper was not sure how to treat theboy, who was now well-dressed, wellspoken, and talked of things at sixthat the man did not begin to understand, nor did he want to. The boyseemed to do nothing but waste the entire day reading. Whatever wouldbecome of him, the trapper wondered. If he could not swing an axe or trapa hare, how could he ever hope to earn an honest living? He too prayedthat the holiday would pass qw*ckly.Helena was proud of Wladek, and at first avoided admitting to herselfthat a wedge had been driven between him and the rest of the children.But in the end it could not be avoided. Playing at soldiers one evening,both Stefan and Franck, generals on opposing sides, refused to have Wla-dek in their arn lies.'Why must I always be left out?' cried Wladek. 'I want to learn to fighttoo.'

'Because you are not one of us,' declared Stefan. 'You are not really ourbrother!

There was a long silence before Franck continued. 'Ojciec never wantedyou in the first place; only Matka was on your side.'Wladek stood motionless and cast his eye around the circle of children,

searching for Florentyna.'What does Franck mean, I am not your brother?' he demanded.Thus Wladek came to hear of the manner of his birth and to understand whyhe bad been always set apart from his brothers and sisters. Though hismother's distress at his now total self-containment became oppressive,Wladek was secretly pleased to discover that he came from unknown stock,untouched by the meanness of the trapper's blood, containing with it thegerm of spirit that would now make all things seem possible.When the unhappy holiday eventually came to an end, Wladek returned tothe castle with joy. Leon welcomed him back with open arms; for him, asisolated by the wealth of Ms father as Wladek was by the poverty of thetrapper,

it had also been a Christmas with little to celebrate. From then on the twoboys grew even closer and soon became inseparable. When the summer holidayscame around, Leon begged his father to allow Wladek to remain at the castle.The Baron agreed for he too had grown to love Wladek. Wladek was overjoyedand only entered the trapper's cottage once again in his life.When Wladek and Leon had finished their classroom work, they would spend theremaining hours playing games. Their favourite was chowanego, a sort of hideand,seek; as the castle had seventy-two rooms, the chance of repetition was

small. Wladek's favourite hiding place was in the dungeons under the castle,in which the only light by which one could be discovered came through asmall stone grille set high in the wall and even then one needed a candle tofind one's way around. Wladek was not sure what purpose the dungeons served,and none of the servants ever made mention of them, as they had never beenused in anyone's memory.Wladek was conscious that he was Leon's equal only in the classroom, andwas no competition for his friend when they played any game, other thanchess. The river Strchara that bordered the estate became an extension totheir playground. In spring they fished, in summer they swam, and inwinter, when the river was frozen over, they would put on their woodenskates and chase each other across the ice, while Florentyna sat on theriver bank anxiously warning them where the surface was th:in. But Wladeknever heeded her and was always the one who fell in. Leon grew quickly andstrong; he ran well, swam well and never seemed to tire or be ill. Wladekbecame aware for the first time what good-looking and well-built meant, andhe knew when he swam, ran, and skated he could never hope to keep up withLeon. Much worse, what Leon called the belly button was, on him, almostunnoticeable, while Wladek's was stumpy and ugly and protruded rudely fromthe middle of his plump body. Wladek would spend long hours in the quiet ofhis own room, studying his physique in a mirror, always40

asking why, and in particular why only one nipple for him when all theboys he had ever seen barechested had the two that the symmetry df thehuman body appeared to require. Sometimes as he lay in bed unable tosleep, he would finger his naked chest and tears of self-pity would floodon to the pillow. He would finally fall asleep praying that when he awokein the morning, things would be different. His praym were not answered.Wladek put aside each night a time to do physical exercises that couldnot be witnessed by anyone, not even Florentyna. Through sheerdetermination he learned to hold himself so that he looked taller. Hebuilt up his arms and his legs and hung by the tips of his fingers froma beam in the bedroom in the hope that it would make him grow, but Leongrew taller even while he slept. Wladek was forred to accept the.factthat he would always be a head shorter than the Baron~s son, and thatnothing, nothing was ever going to produce the missing nipple. Wladek'sdislike of his own body was unprompted, for Leon never commented on hisfriend's appearance; his knowledge of other children stopped short atWladek, whom he adored uncritically.Baron Rosnovski became increasingly fond of the fierre dark-haired boywho had replaced the younger brother for Leon, so tragically lost whenhis wife had died in childbirth.The two boys would dine with him in the great stonewalled hall fmchevening, while the flickering candles cast ominous shadows from thestuffed animal heads on the wall and the-servants came and wentnoiselessly with jthe great silver trays and golden plates, bearing

geese, hams, crayfish, fine wine and fruits, and sometimes the mazureksthat had become Wladek's particular favourites. Afterwards as thedarkness fell ever more thickly around the table, the Baron dismissed thewaiting servants and would tell the boys stories of Polish history andallowed them a sip of Danzig vodka, in which the tiny gold leavessparkled br-avely in the candlelight. Wladek begged as often as he daredfor the story of Tadeusz; Kosciuszko.'A great patriot and hero,' the Baron would reply. 'The41

very symbol of our struggle for independence, trained in France'Whose people we admire and love as we have learned to hate all Russiansand Austrians,' supplied Wladek, whose pleasure in the tale was enhancedby his word-perfect knowledge of it.'Who is telling whom the story, Wadek?' The Baron laughed. '... And thenfought with George Washington in America for liberty and democracy. In1792 he led the Poles in battle at Dubienka. When our wretched king,Stanislas Augustus, deserted us to join the Russians, Kosciuszko returnedto the homeland he loved to throw off the yoke of Tsardom. He won thebattle of where, Leon?'T.aclawice, sir, and then he freed Warsaw!'Good, my child. Then, alas, the Russians mustered a great force atMaciejowice and he was finally defeated and taken prisoner. My

great-great-great-grandfather fought with Kosciuszko on that day, andlater with Dabrowski's legions for the mighty Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte!'And for his service to Poland was created the Baron Rosnovski, a titleyour family will ever bear in remembrance of those great days,' saidN4nadek, as stoutly as if the title would one day pass to him.'Ilx)se great days will come again,' said the Baron quietly. 'I only praythat I may live to see them!At Christmas time, the peasants on the estate would bring their familiesto the castle for the celebration of the blessed vigil. ThroughoutChristmas Eve they fasted and the children would look out of the windowsforthe first star, which was the sign the feast might begin. The Baronwould say grace in his fine deep voice: Tenedicte nobis, Domine Deus, ethis donis quae ex liberalitate tua sumpturi sumus,' and once they had satdown Wladek would be embarrassed by the huge capacity of Jasio Koskiewicz,who addressed himself squarely to every one of the thirteen courses fromthe barsasz soup through to the cakes and plums, and would as in previousyears be sick in the forest on the way home.42

After the feast Wladek enjoyed distributing the gifts from the Christmastree, laden with candles and fruit, to the awestruck peasant children -a doll for Sophia, a forest knife for Josef, a new dress for Florentyna,

the first gift Wladek had ever requested of the Baron.'It's true,' said Josef to his mother when he received his gift fromWladek, 'he i5 not our brother, Matka.''No,' she replied, 'but he will always be my son.'Through the winter and spring of 1914 Wladek grew in strength andlearning. Then suddenly, in July, the German tutor left the castle withouteven saying farewell; neither boy was sure why. They never thought toconnect his departure with the assassination in Sarajevo of the ArchdukeFrancis Ferdinand by a student anarchist, described to them by their othertutor in unaccountably solemn tones. The Baron became withdrawn; neitherboy was sure why. The younger servants, the children's favourites, beganto disappear one by one; neither boy was sure why. As the year passed Leongrew taller, Wladek grew stronger, and both boys became wiser.One morning in the summer of 191.5, a time of fine, lazy days, the Baronset off on the long journey to Warsaw to put, as he described it, hisaffairs in order. He was away for three and a half weeks, twenty-fivedays which Wladek marked off each morning on a calendar in his bedroom;it seemed to him' a lifetime. On the day he was due to return, the twoboys went down to the railway station at Slonim to await the weekly trainwith its one carriage and greet the Baron on his arrival. The three ofthem travelled home in silence.Wladek thought the great man looked tired and older, anotherunaccountable circumstance, and during the following week the Baron often

conducted with the chief servants a rapid and anxious dialogue, brokenoff whenever Leon or Wladek entered the room, an uncharacteristicsurreptitiousness that made the two boys uneasy and fearful that theywere the unwitting cause of it. Wladek despaired that the43

Baron might send him back to the trapper's cottage - always aware he was astranger in a stranger's home.One evening a few days after the Baron had returned he called for the twoboys to join him in the great hall. They crept in, fearful of him. Withoutexplanation he told them that they were about to make a long journey. Thelittle conversation, insubstantial as it seemed to Wladek at the time,remained with him for the rest of his life.'My dear children,' began the Baron in a low, faltering tone, 'thewarmongers of Germany and the Austro-Hungarian empire are at the throat ofWarsaw and will soon be upon us.'Wladek recalled an inexplicable phrase flung out by the Polish tutor at theGerman tutor during their last tense days together. 'Does that mean thatthe hour of the submerged peoples of Europe is at last upon us?' he asked.The Baron regarded Wladek's innocent face tenderly. 'Our national spirithas not perished in one hundred and fifty years of attrition andrepression,' he replied. 'It may be that the fate of Poland is as much atstake as that of Serbia, but we are powerless to influence history. We are

at the mercy of the three mighty empires that surround us.''We are strong, we can fight,'said Leon. 'We have wooden swords andsfiields. We are not afraid of Germans or Russians.''My son, you have only played at war. This battle will not be betweenchildren. We will now find a quiet place to live until history has decidedour fate and we must leave as soon as possible. I can only pray that thisis not the end of your childhood.'Leon and Wladek were both mystified and irritated by the Baron's words. Warsounded like an exciting adventure which they would be sure to miss if theyhad to leave the castle. The servants took several days to pack the Baron'spossessions and Wladek and Leon were informed that they would be departingfor their small surnmer home in the north of Grodno on the followingMonday. The two boys44

continued, largely unsupervised, with their work and play but they couldnow find no one in the castle with the inclination or time to answer theirmyriad questions.On Saturdays, lessons were held only in the morning. They weretranslating Adam Mickiewicz's Pan Tadeusz into Latin when they heard theguns. At first, Wladek thought the familiar sounds meant only thatanother trapper was out shooting on the estate; the boys returned to thepoetry. A second volley of shots, much closer, made them look up and then

they heard the screaming coming from downstairs. They stared at eachother in bewilderment; they feared nothing as they had never experiencedanything in their short lives that should have made them fearful. Thetutor fled leaving them alone, and then came another shot, this time inthe corridor outside their room. The two boys sat motionless, terrifiedand unbreathing.Suddenly the door crashed open and a man no older than their tutor, Ina grey soldier's uniform and steel helmet, stood towering over them. Leonclung on to Wladek, while Wladek stared at the intruder. The soldiershouted at them in German, demanding to know who they were, but neitherboy replied, despite the fact that they had mastered the language, andcould speak it as well as their mother tongue. Another soldier appearedbehind his companion as the first advanced on the two boys, grabbed themby the necks, not unlike chickens, and pulled them out into the corridor,down the hall to the front of the castle and then into the gardens, wherethey found Florentyna screaming hysterically as she stared at the gnassin front of her. Leon could not bear to look, and buried his head inWadek's shoulder. Wladek gazed as much in surprise as in horror at a rowof dead bodies, mostly servants, being placed face downwards. He wasmesmexised by the sight of a moustache in profile against a pool ofblood. It was the trapper. Wladek felt nothing as Florentyna continuedscreaming.

'Is Papa there?' asked Leon. 'Is Papa thereFWladek scanned the line of bodies once again. He 45

thanked God that there was no sign of the Baron Rosnovski. He was aboutto tell Leon the good news when a soldier came up to them.'Wer hat gesprochen?' he demanded fiercely.'Ich,' said Wladek defiantly.The soldier raised his rifle and brought the butt crashing down onWladek's head. He sank to the ground, blood spurting over his face. Wherewas the Baron, what was happening, why were they being treated like thisin their own home? Leon quickly jumped on top of Wladek, trying toprotect him from the second blow which the soldier had intended forWladek's stomach, but as the rifle came crashing down the full forcecaught the back of Leon's head.Both boys lay motionless, Wladek because he was still dazed by the blowand the sudden weight of Leon's body on top of him, and Leon because hewas dead.Wladek could hear another soldier berating their tor-mentor for theaction he had taken. They picked up Leon, but NVIadek clung on to him.It took two soldiers to prise his friend's body away and dump itunceremoniously with the others, face down on the grass. Wladek's eyesnever left the motionless body of his dearest friend until he was finallymarr,hed back inside the castle, and, with a handful of dazed survivors,led to the dungeons. Nobody spoke for feax of joining the line of bodies

on the grass, until the dungeon doors were bolted and the last murmur ofthe soldiers had vanished in the distance. Then Wladek said, 'Holy God.'For there in a corner, slumped against the wall, sat the Baron, uninjuredbut stunned, staring into space, alive only because the conquerors neededsomeone to be responsible for the prisoners. Wladek went over to him,while the others sat as far away from their master as possible. The twogazed at each other, as they had on the first day they had met. Wladekput his hand out, and as on the first day the Baron took it. Wladekwatched the tears course down the Baron's proud face. Neither spoke. Theyhad both lost the one person they had loved most in the world.46

William Kane grew very quickly, and was considered an adorable child byall who came in contact with him; in the early years of his life thesewere generally besotted relatives and doting servants.The top floor of the Kanes' eighteenth-century house in Louisburg Squareon Beacon Hill had been converted into nursery quarters, crammed withtoys. A further bedroom and a sitting room were made available for thenewly acquired nurse. The floor was far enough away from Richard Kane forhim to be unaware of problems such as teething, wet nappies and theirregular and undisciplined cries for more food. First sound, first

tooth, first step and^first word were all recorded in a family book byWilliam's mother along with the progress in his height and weight. Annewas surprised to find that these statistics differed very little fromthose of any other child with whom she came into contact on Beacon Hill.The nurse, an import from England, brought the boy up on a regimen thatwould have gladdened the heart of a Prussian cavalry officer. William'sfather would visit him each evening at six o'clock. As he refused toaddress the child in baby language, he ended up not speaking to him atall; the two merely stared at each other. William would grip his father'sindex finger, the one with which balance sheets were checked, and holdon to it tightly. Richard would allow himself a smile. At the end of thefirst year the routine was slightly modified and the boy was allowed tocome downstairs to see his father. Richard would sit in his highbacked,maroon leather chair watching his first-born weave his way on all foursin and out of the legs of the furniture reappearing when least expected,which led Richard to observe that the child would undoubtedly become asenator.

William took his first steps at thirteen months while clinging on to thetails of his father's topcoat. His first word was 'Dada', which pleasedeveryone, including Grandmother Kane and Grandmother Cabot, who wereregular visitors. They did not actually push the vehicle in which William

was perambulated around Boston, but they did deign to walk a pace behindthe nurse in the park on Thursday afternoons, glaring at infants with aless disciplined retinue. While other children fed the ducks in the publicgardens, William succeeded in chan-ning the swans in the lagoon of Mr.Jack Gardner's extravagant Venetian Palace.When two years had passed, the grandmothers intimated by hint andinnuendo that it was high time for another prodigy, an appropriatesibling for William. Anne obliged them by becoming pregnant and wasdistressed to find herself feeling and looking progressively off colouras she entered her fourth month.Doctor MacKenzie ceased to smile as he checked the growing stomach andhopeful mother, and when Anne miscarried at sixteen weeks he was notaltogether surprised, but did not allow her to indulge her grief. In hisnotes he wrote 'pre-eclampsia?' and then told her, 'Anne, my dear, thereason you have not been feeling so wrU is that your blood pressure wastoo high, and would probably have become much higher as your pregnancyprogressed. I fear doctors haven't found the answer to blood pressureyet~ in fact we know very little other than ies a dangerous condition foranyone, particularly for a pregnant woman.'Anne held back her tears while considering the implications of a futurewithout more children.'Surely it won't happen in my next pregnancy?' she asked, phrasing herquestion to dispose the doctor to a favourable answer.'I should be very surprised if it did not, my dear. I am sorry to have

to say this to you, but I would strongly advise you against becomingpregnant again.''But I don't mind feeling off-colour for a few months if it means48

'I am not talking about feeling off-colour~ Anne. I am talking about nottaking any unnecessary risks with your life.PIt was a terrible blow for Richard and Anne, who themselves had both beenonly children, largely as a result of their respective fathers' prematuredeaths. They had both assumed that they would produce a family appropriateto the commanding size of their house and their responsibilities to thenext generation. 'What else is there for a young woman to do?' enquiredGrandmother Cabot of Grandmother Kane. No one cared to mention the subjectagain, and William became the centre of everyone's attention.Richard, who had takerx over as the president of Kane and Cabot Bank andTrust Company when his father had died in 1904, had always immersed himselfin the work of the bank. The bank, which stood on State Street, a bastionof architectural and fiscal solidity, had offices in New York, London andSan Francisco. The last had presented a problem to Richard soon afterWilliam's birth when, along with Crocker National Bank, Wells Fargo, andthe Califomia Bank, it collapsed to the ground, not financially, butliterally, in the great earthquake of 1906. Richard, by nature a cautiousman, was comprehensively insured with Lloyd's of London. Gentlemen all,

they had paid up to the penny, enabling Richard to rebuild. Nevertheless,Richard spent an uncomfortable year jolting across America on the four-daytrain journey between Boston and San Francisco, supervising the rebuilding.He opened the new office in Union Squarquotesdbs_dbs10.pdfusesText_16

[PDF] KANE AND ABEL by JEFFREY ARCHER CORONET - E4Thai

Book Two